scattered easy in his hands
by iikamo
Summary: A Squall x Seifer shonen ai/yaoi fic of forgotten childhood memories and emotions. ?


scattered easy in his hands   
  


Beware of language and homoerotic content (male x male).  
This is the intro to what will eventually reveal itself to be a Squall x Seifer fic. I apologize for the female that I threw into the first half of chapter one - what can I say? She's there for comic relief and to keep the story moving.  
  
It's written a little awkwardly, as this is my first attempt at writing in a long time. I'd love to get some reviews, so, please share your opinions with me! ^_^ Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy it!

  
  


Seifer folded his hands neatly into one another, resting his palms atop the table's linoleum surface, his pale, nimble fingers intertwined gracefully, gripping to each other like vines. His knuckles grew into a paler white as he bent them more forcibly, stomach churning, footsteps echoing behind him, followed by the wry voice of a figure he spent much of his life avoiding. He sucked a breath of air into his lungs, holding it there painfully as he felt the boy's breath on the back of his neck.

"Hi Seifer", he began, hands reaching greedily around the small boy's shoulders, staring intrusively at his deep green, unresponsive eyes, "well, that's no way to treat a friend." He managed to pull a chair up for himself to sit in while keeping one hand free to render Seifer immobile. A group of boys surrounded them, some sitting in chairs, the others hunched over furniture, amused, teeth gleaming with a barbaric anticipation. A few of them laughed, huddling together, their eyes darting back and forth between one another and the boy, nearly salivating over the enjoyment of their plan. Seifer glanced at them quickly, recognizing them instantly as the 'usuals', boys who often accompanied the ringleader of his harassment, sometimes stepping in to pin him down...

"Seifer", the oldest boy cooed, running the palm of his hand against Seifer's supple, young cheek. "You remember what to do, don't you? Has it been too long since I last had my way with you?"

"I remember", Seifer murmured, blood flooding to his face as he wished the situation to end.

The boy giggled, crawling to his knees before Seifer, staring up, coy from under his lashes. He ran his hands possessively over the boy's thighs and hands as he spoke to him, eager to feel the form underneath his clothes. He asked rhetorical questions, toying with him, proudly displaying his well-trained f***toy in front of his posse. Seifer answered him with practiced words, voice flat with indifference, eyes glazing as he numbed to the boy's invasive touch, his cold fingers as they found their way between his legs. He gasped as they closed around him, wincing, shame suddenly setting in. 

"Aleister", he called pleadingly, gaze darting around the crowded cafeteria, nauseated, "please... not here, please?"

He laughed a dark, slow laugh, eyelids closing into slits from under which black globes glistened, tongue pushing against the back of his teeth. He grunted, taking Seifer's hand easily within his own, standing, dragging the boy to his feet. 

"You carry him", he said to one of his friends over his shoulder, rushing towards the Garden pharmacy. He turned around halfway there, shouting back to the boys with humor "Make sure you keep him quiet!".

Seifer panicked, delivering a quick slap to the boy who was advancing toward him, feet working to distance himself from them, his hope crushed as he felt two sets of arms close around him, lifting him carelessly into the air and laying him over a sturdy shoulder. One of the younger crew gave the boy's rear a harsh slap, laughter escaping him with the brush of his hand onto the tender, covered flesh.

He cried tears after he being slapped, misery wrought more from humiliation than from pain. He could feel his body tensing, nails digging into the shoulders of the boy beneath him. He spoke a prayer through clenched teeth, begging to be forgiven for whatever he might have done to deserve what would be next for him, familiar with the events, predicting the abrasive entrance the boys made into him after the light went out... 

  
  


* * *

  


Exhausted, Seifer lay still in his bed long after the alarm went off, indifferent to the schedule of the school after his sleepless night. He laughed emphatically while wiping away a thin layer of sweat from his face, annoyed that these dreams had denied him the right to rest. Mind busy trying to interpret his dream, he let the importance of getting to his classes on time flee from him quickly._ Remembering these events of the past... still letting old ghosts haunt you_, he thought to himself, disgusted with his mind's fascination over his rape. He preferred not to think about it at all, banishing the distinct taste of cum from the back of his throat, memory tainted with its flavor, unable to forget what it felt like to be a human "lavatory". He shook his head, dampened strands of silken blonde hair falling before his eyes, jade glistening with faint tears. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the loud buzzing school bell, the quiet hallways soon thereafter flooded with the tumultuous sounds of laughter and squeaky anxious boys meeting girls & vice versa. _The dance_, Seifer recalled, promptly rushing to the door to close it. A figure forced itself between the wall and the closing entrance, though, hand deftly smacking Seifer in the face as he released the doorhandle.

"Ow...", he said, voice muffled with the hand rubbing his own wound. "What the f***?!"

A girl of awkward and clumsy form continued to make her way into the room, unaware of her blow to the boy. She waved giddily, lashes falsely long and dark, dramatized by the abuse of mascara. "Hi Seifer!" she squealed, hands clasping onto one another and shrugging uncomfortably. Her smile was exaggerated and imposed as she stepped closer, feet nearly tripping over one another. "What's up?"

Seifer returned to her a glare, antisocial and unamused. "I take it you're here for Xian..." he said, disinterest rotting through his clenched teeth, longing to shut her out of the room with the rest of the students. He felt her eyes on him and crossed his arms shyly, embarrassed to be so bare in front of any one, even though he was merely shirtless. He gathered a black shirt that had been blindly tossed onto a chair the night before and threw it on, despite its obvious wear and dreadful stench. He continued to wait for her answer, frustrated to find that she was still gawking. He rolled his eyes, and then sighed for doing so.

She bit her lower lip, nervous suddenly to be in the room without having a speech planned. She decided to feign an interest in his roommate, rather than admit to her actual reason for visiting such a grumpy Seifer. "Yes...yes, I'm here for Xian... He's uh... not here, is he?" she asked needlessly, staring at the empty bed.

"No, obviously." Seifer snapped crudely, stepping away from her, glad to retreat into the bathroom. He closed the door, locking it, leaning his lithe frame against it with relief.

"Um... Seifer?" she asked, knuckles tapping the doorway.

Seifer closed his eyes, trying to resist asking her why she was still in the room. "Yes?", he asked, sounding surprisingly sweet.

"Is um... Are you um... Going to the dance tonight?"

"No", he replied flatly, running water from the shower nozzle, hands falling underneath its stream to test its warmth.

"Well, how come?" she asked cheerily, kicking her toes into the wall.

"I've never really been one for dances..." 

"Oh..." she said, meekly glancing around the room. Her hands wandered towards his night stand, fingers falling softly over the objects there, doting on the snow globe in particular. She picked it up, holding it before the light of the tiny dorm window, early sunlight catching the flakes of plastic, igniting them into embers of white flame. 

Seifer listened intently at the door, assuring himself that he was alone before undressing, even though the door was locked. He blamed it on slight paranoia. He could hear her footsteps near his bed. "What are you doing?", he asked, brow furrowed as he tampered with the fussy lock.

The girl's hands faltered, fingernails scratching the surface of the globe as she struggled not to drop it. Digits finally able to clasp it firmly within her palm, she placed it tactlessly back onto the tabletop, unsure of what direction its plaque had been facing. She bit her lower lip before murmuring worriedly "Nothing!" and rushing to the other end of the room.

Stopping in front of the bathroom door, she laid her fingertips onto the cool painted surface, smooth skin gently pushing up against the nicks and cracks coated with white. Her mouth remained open, lips smeared rubies, unable to speak, merely listening to the rush of water pellets hitting the shower walls. "Seifer...", she whispered to herself as she heard his footsteps moving away from the door, scrape of rings against the shower rod as he pulled the curtain back, stepping into it to disappear within the flood of heat. "I love you."

She let her cheek fall against the doorframe, her eyes closed as she envisioned the woodwork as the outline of his body, the carved edges as his shoulder blades, breath brushing the center of his spine as he would immerse himself in childish laughter, locking his fingers within hers. She could feel her lower lip tremble, the hitch in her chest as she drew her next, quivering breath, merely clearing her throat and squeezing her eyelids tighter shut to withhold tears. The girl sighed and let her fingers trace the shape of the door one last time before quietly stepping out, forgetting to lock the dormitory as she left.

* * *

  
  


Squall shuffled through the hallways, laconic and quiet amongst the commotion, his arms clutching two schoolbooks to his chest, both materials for his next class and armor. He couldn't help but sneer as giggling students continued to pass, crashing into him passively. A growl escaped him, frustration growing into a scowl before he could duck behind a doorframe, momentarily hidden within the abode. He sighed, pieces of conversation blaring into his ears as the crowd lulled by, reminders of the night's dance, an event so horrid to him that it made him twitch. He shook his head over their enthusiasm, their constant fretting over the meaningless choices they would make, such as who they would invite and the color of their allotted formal wear.

His eyes found their way to the books in his arms, noting their lack of personal messages and phone numbers, further proof to him that he was apart from the rest. He focused exclusively on one figure in particular, the stark outline of a boy scratched with passion onto the blank brown paper, his torso invaded by the 'recycled paper' mark. Squall squinted, unable to recall drawing such a figure himself, head tilting slightly towards his shoulder, pondering the scribbles with intensity. They were less than random, a pair of hands outstretched as they begged for the other one's warmth, sunlight illuminating their limbs and casting shadows onto the ground. A set of eyes sat behind the whole masquerade, overseeing the actions of all else there, softest touch of melancholy gleaming through their liquid centers. 

The bell rang. School half-day finally over, the hallways were less frantic now, only scattered with the occasional couple. A soft whimper escaped his throat, tired and weary, thinking with disenchantment about the lifeless weekend that awaited him, glad to be alone but disappointed in having nothing planned. He glanced with boredom at the edges of the doorframe he had been hiding within, smirking to see paint peeling above his head as it was elsewhere in the Garden. He stared quizzically at the numbers tacked into the door, reading them aloud to his head. "135", he muttered, recalling various visions in his mind of having visited it before, knowing that the room had belonged to some one he knew, and, from what he could tell, disliked. He paused, double-thinking himself, clarifying that the emotion associated with the number was, in fact, not one of hatred, but of a shy interest, a person whom he had been taken with. Curious, he ran his fingers over the handle, lifting up slightly. "Unlocked", he noted, shrugging before pushing it open and stepping tentatively inside. 

He could hear the blast of a shower as he enclosed himself in the dorm, examining the room in the hopes that it had belonged to some one he could call his friend, perhaps an opportunity for company. Watching the setup of the room carefully, he frowned, mind empty of suggestion as to who's it might be. He felt nosy, out of place, slight air of danger surrounding him as he stepped towards Xian's bed. He quickly grew restless there, the items strewn about very much like the one's he had in his own dorm, needful things which every one would own at the Garden: toothpaste, small calculator watch, alarm clock. His eyes wandered onto the second bed, widening with some interest as he poked at a small book with ornate gold lettering which marked its spine 'ephimeris'. He giggled softly as he spotted the snow globe, gently pushing aside folded papers and a roll of mints to read its dusty label.

"Dreamland?", he spoke with curiosity, fingers closing around it to turn it bottom-side-up.

"Is there something I can do for you, Squall?"

Squall stumbled, the voice which had called his name utterly unexpected and instantly recognizable, smooth and sarcastic._ Seifer?!_, he thought to himself, turning sideways to feast his eyes upon the interruptive sound. 

Seifer stood reserved in the doorway of the bathroom, face pale and red, squinted eyes partially covered by dripping strands of hair, a towel clinging to his shoulders to catch the moisture. He was out of his usual clothing, looking surprisingly casual in a pair of worn, faded denim jeans and a simple black t-shirt. His gaze moved from Squall to the night stand, then back again before he sat on the edge of his bed, socks in his hands being worked onto his feet.

Squall was rendered speechless, searching for an excuse for bursting into Seifer's room and playing with his stuff. He was pleasantly shocked to see that Seifer didn't seem to be paying him much attention, or even be bothered by the invasion of his privacy. He quickly concealed his uncertainty, brows slanting again into a typical, cold bitterness. 

He looked quickly to the other side of the room, remembering now that he had been led to the dorm once by his lab partner, Xian.

"I was looking for Xian. Do you know when he'll be back?" He asked, masking his embarrassment well.

Seifer answered without looking at him, hands rubbing his own ankles tenderly, a deep violet bruise obstructing his skin. He spoke more words than he intended to, pretending to be doting on his injuries rather than give any indication that Squall was making him unexpectedly nervous. "No. I think he's going to the dance tonight, but I don't know when he's coming back... You might be able to find him in the cafeteria, or something. He usually hangs around there..."

Squall watched his fingers as they brushed against the damaged flesh, brow arching with a biting curiosity. "Oh. Seems that almost every one's going to the dance, tonight..."

"Almost...", Seifer laughed, pushing the leg of his pants over his bruise, hands falling together into his lap as he looked up at Squall. "I take you're not going?"

Squall cringed, shaking his head, small smile pushing its way through his cold demeanor. "Nah, I can't dance."

Seifer nodded, unintentionally biting his lip, awkward and uncomfortable in the silence that soon fell between them. Familiar sounds of the clock's constant ticking and chirping birds from outside filled the dimly lit dorm. He scooted towards his night stand, leaning over his pillow to switch on a light, unsure of whether or not he should continue talking to his company.

Squall cleared his throat, bringing himself back from the swell of thought he had slipped into. "Right", he began, swinging his arms behind his back and edging towards the door, "well, um... I'll go check the cafeteria. Thanks for the information!" He winced while walking away, blushing over his ill-composed conversation.

"Okay", Seifer replied weakly, wiping a stream of water away from the back of his neck with the towel.


End file.
